


Of All Things Lost  (it had to be you)

by ride_the_dinos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: #Give Pepper's Therapist to Peter 2021, (was a dad?), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt Peter Parker, Insomnia, No editing we die like mne, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has PTSD, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sensory Overload, Tony Stark is a Dad TM, Whump, get this kid some therapy stat, god knows she's had that therapist since 2008 or something, sorry that was mean, there's a goldfish involved, when did she meet Tony?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 14:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30057021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ride_the_dinos/pseuds/ride_the_dinos
Summary: “It’s so much worse. And it’s not getting better . I don’t know what to do-” He choked off, ignoring the burn behind his eyes as her arm squeezed tighter.“It takes time. Sometimes years,” She pressed a light kiss to his tangled brown curls, “but you’re strong, one of the strongest people I know. Tony thought so too.”
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Of All Things Lost  (it had to be you)

**Author's Note:**

> This poor fic has been sitting in my drafts since premiere night of endgame lmao :')

Sometimes, Peter forgets.

Forgets that he’s five years younger than he should be. Forgets that the hollow, dark eyes of strangers on the streets are not his own reflecting back at him. Forgets not to listen over the constant hum of the city for the whine of reactors. Forgets not to look for Happy’s car past the school grounds, ready to whisk him upstate; forgets that going upstate doesn’t mean the same thing as it did less than a year ago. 

The echo of excitement at the thought of going to the Avenger’s facility now twists into something retched in his stomach, tastes like acid in his throat. Bruce Banner lives there permanently now, using the labs for who-knows-what. Peter doesn’t remember. Nor does he care.

The school bell rang, slicing through his skull and he just barely kept shaking fingers clamped around his thighs, muscles twitching beneath rough denim.

Screams. Alien shrieks. Screeches of machinery- smoke everywhere- he can’t see anything- he can’t hear -

“. . .ou okay? Peter?” A hesitant voice cut through the ringing in his ears and distantly he realized that he was hunched over in his seat, eyes clenched painfully shut while gripping his legs in a white-knuckle grip.

Taking several stuttering breaths he forced himself to relax, smoothing trembling fingers over the holes they had ripped into the fabric. He glanced up at Ned through tangled bangs, taking in the wide-eyed worry painted vibrantly over his friend’s face.

All day, those dark eyes had sought his. Always, they held the same paranoia and concern that Peter could not deny. He hated it with every fiber of his being. Hated that when he got home, May would wear those same eyes before locking them away in favor of a small smile and the offer of more food.

“How about Broccoli soup? Something warm?”

“Maybe later. Thanks, Aunt May.”

“You need to eat, darling. I know you didn’t eat breakfast.”

She was right, about breakfast. What she didn’t realize was that it wasn’t just breakfast. It was dinner. And lunch. And Ned’s fruit snacks that ended up shoved in his locker behind some old notebooks full of retired web formulas. He gave those notebooks and that suit about as much attention as he gave the food- none.

He took a bite here and there when May looked ready to cry, but other than that, the taste of ash and blood coating his mouth was more overwhelming than the ache of his stomach.

Ned eyed the new ragged holes nervously., “you . . . you want me to call May?”

“No. I’m leaving.”

Ned clenched and unclenched his hands in a bout of uncertainty. Peter ignored the exhaustion wracking his body and stood, swinging his backpack onto hunched shoulders and started to shuffle out of the already empty classroom. He couldn’t find it in himself to deal with the guilty feelings surrounding his treatment of his best friend.

“Are you sure? Maybe you wanna crash at my place for a bit?”

Where less than a year ago, Ned would have nagged him like an excited puppy and dragged him to his house, now his voice was laced with uncertainty, like he was expecting to be scolded for such a simple suggestion.

“No, that’s fine. I’ll see you Monday, Ned.”

“Oh. . .” the teen stood in the empty classroom, looking crestfallen. Peter could practically smell the worry dripping off him as he walked into the hall and out of the building.

The sun was out.

Peter gritted his teeth against the glaring brightness and pulled his hood up, keeping his eyes low and body compact as he made his way to the subway system finally up and running after several weeks.

Since coming back, New York was different. People weren’t as big . Most were quiet, kept close to themselves and their family, friends. Others were loud, preaching on the streets about starting over and second chances and cleaning up the world.

Some told stories about The War, talking about heroes and glorious battles fought for humanity in loud voices. Peter glared at them as he passed, clicking his teeth together in agitation and violent promise until they stuttered and only continued once he was out of sight. Peter hated them. They didn’t have any idea what they were saying. How could they? They weren’t there.

Peter had hands over his ears as the train came to a screeching halt in front of him, but that didn’t stop the shaking of the platform from migrating into his legs and up his spine, staying there for a remainder of the day as his spider sense went insane in the back of his skull, telling him to run. To hide. To escape.

But there was nothing to escape from.

The shaking was not caused by explosions. The echoes of machinery were not caused by weapons fired from every angle, the unhappy screech of a child was not the scream of a young wounded Wakandian soldier, crying for his mother in his native tongue as aliens and monsters tore through flesh in a blood-thirsty frenzy.

Peter breathed slow with aching lungs, pulling the soft collar of the black hoodie over the bridge of his nose and closing burning eyes- attempting to block everything out.

Several trains and as many bus rides later, Peter slumped, exhausted, up to the modern gate surrounding the Stark’s private property. The gate slid open immediately, facial recognition doing it’s work and allowing one of it’s most frequent visitors up the long driveway curling around the small lake to the modest cabin like home Pepper Potts-Stark and her daughter lived in.

He stamped up the stairs with heavy feet, opening the screen door and letting himself in, dropping his bag next to the door just in time for a small ball of barely contained energy to fly into his arms.

He stumbled back, bumping against the door as he hugged the small girl tightly, a small smile pulling at the unused muscles in his cheeks as Morgan squeezed his aching torso, eyes shining up at him with a toothy grin.

“Guess what I did today?!”

Peter looked up at the ceiling dramatically, pretending to think hard, ignoring the pinch in his throat as he guessed, “You. . . stole the car from Happy and led an epic car chase through Maine?”

“What? No! ” Morgan giggled, hopping back and waving her hands excitedly, “I and Happy went to the pet store and bought-” she leaned forward and gestured for him to come closer with a small finger, as if she was about to reveal a huge secret- “a goldfish!”

Peter leaned back on his haunches as she exploded with delighted laughter, grabbing his hand and yanking him toward the living room.

Sure enough, his exhausted eyes took a minute to focus on the huge tank leaning up against one wall. He very carefully ignored the collection of pictures above it.

Morgan pressed her hands and face against the tank, breath fogging up the glass in a matter of seconds.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” The girl gushed dreamily.

Peter crouched beside her, staring into the seemingly empty tank large enough to house a full-grown tortoise, about to wonder if he was actually starting to go crazy when he spotted it. A bright orange goldfish no bigger than his thumbnail swam lazily around a fake rock outcropping, eyeing him haughtily as he pressed closer to the glass.

“Uhm. . .cool? Will it grow any bigger?”

“No,” Morgan breathed happily.

Peter snorted and stood slowly, “What’d you name it?”

“Carol.”

“Carol. . . as in, like, Carol Danvers ?”

“Yep.”

Peter took in her serious five year old face and managed to give her a small smile, ruffling her hair as he turned to the hall.

“It fits. Good job,” she practically glowed with happiness, “where’s your mama?”

She pointed towards the study, planting herself next to the small orange blob named after one of the most powerful people in all the universes.

Peter knocked once on the study door before pushing through, a heavy breath leaving his body as he took in Pepper’s tired face set aglow by a hologram revealing a network of industry information.

“Banner,” She offered at his questioning look as she swiped it away and settled back in the soft leather chair. She had her legs pulled up on the seat, yoga pants and over-large green sweater throwing off all the comfy vibes.

Peter practically collapsed into the sofa against the wall, kicking off his shoes and ignoring her concerned gaze. He knew it would be hidden again as soon as he looked up so he simply focused on lining the old chucks against the charcoal colored couch and curling into its plush corner, wrapping thin arms around a throw pillow as he built the courage to look at one of the people he loved most in the world.

“You haven’t been sleeping.”

Peter glanced at her through too-long bangs, noticed the lines around her eyes were accompanied with their own dark circles. Although, hers had been almost successfully covered with makeup.

“You haven’t either.”

After being met with a calm silence he sighed, digging his face into the pillow being strangled in his tight grip, hands numb.

“It’s worse today.”

The whispered admission was more of a rasp than anything, but Pepper heard it clearly. She stood and slid next to him on the cushions, wrapped one sweater-covered arm around his shaking shoulders in a warm embrace.

“It’s so much worse. And it’s not getting better . I don’t know what to do -” He choked off, ignoring the burn behind his eyes as the arm squeezed tighter.

“It takes time. Sometimes years,” She pressed a light kiss to his tangled brown curls, “but you’re strong, one of the strongest people I know. Tony thought so too.”

After that, Peter let go. He wasn’t sure if he cried, but when he came back to himself his cheeks felt itchy and a heavy blanket laid across his slumped form. Exhaustion tugged at every muscle in his body as he sat up, rubbing hands roughly over his face as he took stock of his surroundings.

The sunlight creeping through the blinds had turned gold, washing the dark oak furnishings and masked tech in thick honey. A lot of time had passed since he’d gotten here. The spot next to him on the couch was empty, Pepper having left to take care of her actual child.

A familiar weight of guilt settled itself in his chest, making his hands scratch absently at the small holes in his jeans as he stared at the door. He really shouldn’t be here. Pepper had a life, a kid. He shouldn’t be showing up at her house every other week like a depressed shadow. A living, breathing memory of what was.

Peter knew that just his being here hurt her. His face was the same face from about six years ago, the same face that bounced around the avengers headquarters, alight with curiosity and amazement at everything his wide eyes set upon. The same face that Tony had to leave behind, find, and leave behind again.

His being here couldn’t allow her to move on because how could she, when he was a literal anchor to her past? To Tony?

With a stifled groan he stood and walked down the short hall, through the empty living room past Carol, and out onto the porch.

Brilliant sunlight reflected off the lake, casting everything in a warm ethereal glow. A small chill raced up Peter’s back, cooling the soles of his feet through mismatched socks. Autumn had almost set in.

One of the reasons he came here so often was the quiet. It was probably one of the main reasons Tony had moved his little family out here. His sensitive eardrums and throbbing brain clung to the serene peace like a lifeline.

“Here.”

Peter jumped a bit as a mug of warm tea was pressed into his hands, shooting a small look of gratitude towards Pepper as she leaned against the porch railing and watched the sunset with him in silence.

He sipped at the liquid, allowing it to cool on his tongue before swallowing, grimacing as his hands started shaking again. He set the mug down and shoved them into his hoodie’s pockets in hopes that it went unnoticed.

The hoodie was large, hung off his slight frame and only highlighting how thin he’d gotten in the past months. He couldn’t bring himself to choose another, though. And not just because of the small Stark Industries logo peeling in the corner.

“I called May.”

Peter nodded in acknowledgement, eyes straining against the dimming sunlight. It was barely a sliver against the treeline.

“She said it’s going to be another late night. If you want to stay until tomorrow, I’m sure Morgan would be really happy.”

Peter met her kind gaze and tried for a grateful smile, but it probably came out as more of a pained grimace.

"That would actually be nice. I don't. . . uh. . ." after a moment of trying to decide what to say without embarrassing himself, Pepper took mercy on him and picked up the mug.

"I put some sweats in the guest bedroom, make sure to give her a goodnight kiss or she'll bug you all night."

He swallowed the lump stuck in his throat and watched her slip back into the house, darkness settling around the modest home as the sun finally dipped below the horizon.

He stayed once in a while, not normally on purpose; sometimes he just accidently passed out on the couch, Morgan pressed to his side while they watched a movie, and stayed there until Pepper gently shook him awake. (Those nights the nightmares seemed far off, distant in a way that relieved the ache in his bones for a few more waking hours.) Sometimes just the thought of travelling back through the city to get back to his cramped, lonely apartment was too much and Pepper didn't say anything when he curled into a ball in the guest bed, pretending to sleep through the night.

With May at work and the chill setting in, the idea of spending the night alone in their small apartment was about as enticing as telling Captain Marvel that her namesake was a deformed goldfish- ominous and anxiety inducing. He could call Ned and take him up on the earlier offer, but he wasn't ready to face Ned's siblings who- by now- were technically older than them.

The boy ran a hand down his face as he thought about Ned's description of their awkward family dynamic and how tense things were in their full home. No, that wasn't an option.

MJ and he had grown scarily closer in the past months, but he appreciated her efforts to give him space. She didn't look at him the same way everyone else did. She had a measure of understanding in the dark depths that could not be found in many her age. Maybe in another time, they could have bunked in front of the tv in her living room and talked through the early hours of morning, but something sick bubbled in his stomach when he realized that inevitably, just because of who she was, the talk would circle back to him and what had happened.

That was even less of an option.

He sighed when he realized that those were his only choices. Loneliness, awkwardness, or guilt. Guilt he could handle. Guilt was something he knew intimately. Especially over these past agonizing months. Years? Months. 

As he got ready for bed, he achingly searched his mind for an answer as to why he had latched so firmly onto Pepper.

Maybe it was because of her never-ending patience and deliberate words? Or maybe it was the maternal comfort she practically poured over him each time he stumbled through her door? His mind and body craved it like it would make up for the lost sleep and missed meals.

Or maybe, he thought darkly as he tucked Morgan into bed and pressed a feather-light kiss to her brown mop, it was the shared sense of loss and hopelessness he could see reflecting back at him that no one besides Happy and Rhodey shared. The small group of five had lost more than a friend, more than a companion, more than a father. It crushed Peter even as the connection kept him alive.

Pepper wrapped him in a one-armed hug as he dragged himself back downstairs.

“If you need anything-” she tipped his head gently to look into his eyes “- please ask.”

Peter nodded, overflowing with guilt and exhaustion. God, he shouldn’t be here.

It was an accident, his eyes landing on the photograph. Tony's eyes smirking next to Peter's slightly sweaty, excited grin, his arm around his mentee's shoulder. The world around them was bright and hopeful. He remembers Happy was behind the camera. 

Peter's stomach lurched and he tore his eyes away, marching into the guest bedroom (his bedroom) and laying down because that was what was expected of him. Just like doing homework, and eating and moving on was expected of him. 

He lays there and stares at the long shadows on the walls until he has no choice and his body drags him under. 

He does not want to dream. 

He dreams of brightness and hope. 

**Author's Note:**

> :')
> 
> come cry w me on tumblr @ride-the-dinos


End file.
